


Silencing Of A Lamb

by richyee



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: MUTE RICHIE !! jfKDJFKS, PENNYWISE #EXPOSES HIS ASS, Richie gets less fucked up i swear, am i the only one who noticed patrick licking his lips at richie at the beginning of the movie, cant stop wont stop, didnt see any mute richie so i decided to fuck him up myself, hes a cry baby, i bles the rains down in richrica, i listened to africa on loop while writing this, look at the ratings and warnings DIPSHITS, pennywise is like that white girl on ig, reddie is okay but richie x being mute is otp, richie x angst is my otp, tell me i wasnt, too bad here is is this is every thing you never wanted, true story bro, turns out she knows all your friends and tells them EVERYTHING, you think you're never gonna meet her irl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richyee/pseuds/richyee
Summary: Richie would sacrifice anything to protect Eddie, including his Voice. What use are Voices when there's no one to practice them on, after all?





	1. sh-It Happens

Crisp sunlight cut across Richie's face, its path marred by drifting dust in the old Neibolt house. Pressed against a whimpering Eddie, Richie was a body shield for his best friend. Pennywise leered closer and closer, saliva dripping from It's mouth as it looked at its terrified victims.

Dinnertime.

Pennywise's arm shot forward and expanded, digging into Richie's neck and puncturing the thin skin almost instantly. Almost enough to be fatal. Richie attempted to scream, yell, anything to notify the others.

"Beep beep, Richard," Pennywise said, as if Richie's noises were an impolite burp at Sunday dinner. Its meal was interrupted quickly by the clattering and yelling of the rest of the Loser's Club. Alone, the children posed almost no threat, but together? They were trouble. It's survival instincts kicked in and it disappeared in a haze of Missing: Richard Tozier posters, leaving it's pulsing, gushing, juicy red meal behind.

Richie gurgled, spit having gathered in his throat, forgetting how to swallow, forgetting how to breathe and how to live, racing towards peace.  
"Richie don't you dare die you dumb-ass!" a shrill and tense voice hissed right in his ear. Eddie. Richie jolted, and painfully swallowed the excess spit.  
"I'm not... Eds.. I'm right, I'm right here!" Richie rasped out with tremendous effort.

  
"Good! Good. Don't sleep, but don't panic either. It's not good, or at least my mom says." Eddie paused for a moment and pulled Richie closer in an attempt to comfort him, and then he went to yelling, "Bill! Beverly! Ben! Stan! Mike! ANYONE!"  
The thundering of several pairs of feet was all that was heard for several agonizing minutes. Richie had started gurgling again.

"Swallow and breathe. Swallow and breathe, goddammit." Eddie whispered into Richie's ear, gripping his friend's shoulder with his good hand. Richie gulped and calmed down. It hurt, it hurt a lot. Richie groaned as Eddie squirmed out from under him. Eddie winced in pain as his broken arm flailed about as he got up.

  
"Eds?" Richie said, quieter this time. Eddie didn't think he'd ever heard such a soft noise come out of the other boy's mouth.

"I'm here." Eddie reassured Richie before yelling, "Bill!" Auburn hair flew around the corner, Bill panting for air.

"What happ- Oh my god." Bill tossed his cookies right there on the rotting floorboards of Neibolt house. Richie looked a little green at the sight of Bill's vomit.

  
"Hey, Big Bi..." Richie trailed off, his voice finally giving out. Richie opted for a pathetic smile instead, tears threatening to pour out of his eyes like a tsunami. Eddie knelt down next to Richie and pressed his lips firmly to the other's grimy forehead, in a familial sort of way, like a mother does to comfort their toddler. The others started running in one by one. Stan flinched away from the scene, Ben yelped, and Beverly looked on as if reminiscing a similar time, concern and empathy reflected in her green eyes. Mike simply grimaced, Richie reminded him of the lambs at the farm who were unfortunate enough to get snared by coyote's uncaring claws.

  
"Why are you guys just standing there!" Eddie screamed, color rising to his face, "Help me get him to the hospital, or to Mrs. Maggie and Mr. Wentworth. Somewhere!"

Bill was the first one to snap to attention, wiping dried vomit from his mouth, he grabbed Richie's legs as Eddie took careful hold of Richie's head. Stan supported the middle, and the other three formed a semicircle, ready to help if something happened. If It came back. And they walked down to the Tozier's house, kicking up dust as they marched out of Neibolt house onto the dirty street.

The sun took on a dirty urine yellow color as Beverly knocked on the baby blue door of Richie's house. A beautiful dirty-blonde haired woman in a delicate pink sundress opened the door, her perfectly manicured hand gripping the door frame loosely.

"Hello?" Maggie Tozier said, looking down at the roughed up redheaded girl at her door. She raised her head the slightest bit and saw her son, a sickly pale color and with puncture marks on his throat, though they looked much less severe to her than they did to the Loser's club.  
"Wh-what happened?"  
"He tripped and fell on a pitchfork." Beverly lied smoothly, "The blood made him pass out, and he couldn't talk very well. We brought him here because your house is closer than the emergency room, we hope you don't mind."  
Maggie nodded, "Boys. I'll never understand them." she remarked quietly as she ushered them inside, the hem of her skirt fluttering gently in the light wind.

"Lay him down on the couch in the den, boys. Would you like some lemonade and sugar cookies while I take care of Richie?" Maggie said as she shut the door.

"Yes ma'am!" was the unanimous response from the exhausted kids. Maggie brought out six glasses and filled them up, setting out the plate of warm sugar cookies. She sat them down, made polite chat for two minutes, and then went to pull out the hydrogen peroxide and bandages, which would (hopefully) be enough to keep Richie secure enough to be in the car to the emergency room. When she went back to the living room, Eddie was sitting on the floor next to the sofa, dirtier than she had ever seen the clean-freak kid.

  
"Eddie, don't you want lemonade and cooki- oh sweet Jesus Christ what happened to your arm and how are you not screaming?"

Eddie half shrugged with his good arm, "I haven't noticed it," he paused, "I just wanted Richie to be okay real bad, I guess."

  
Maggie simply sighed, "Sonia would kill me if I didn't take you to the emergency room, and I care about you, Eddie, so when I take Richie you're coming too."

  
"Yes, ma'am."

  
"Plus, if I didn't your arm would be a permanent noodle, and then Richie would really have a reason to call you Eddie Spaghetti, huh?" Maggie smiled kindly at the boy who was something akin to second son to her, despite how much she wanted a daughter.

  
Eddie froze, “No.” The two of them broke into wild chuckles before Eddie scooted to the side and watched Maggie work on Richie. Maggie poured a small amount of hydrogen peroxide on the first claw mark, and bubbles came spewing out of the cut like a science experiment gone wrong. Maggie gasped, and then screwed her eyes and mouth tight just in time as the bubbling spew hit her in the face. She wiped her face and then looked at Eddie questioningly like 'what kind of pitchfork does this shit?'\

  
"Okay then, I suppose we're going to the emergency room now instead of later," she said, dusting off her skirt and standing.

  
"Eddie and I are taking Richie to the emergency room, just let yourselves out when you're done eating."

  
"Yes ma'am!" they said, but before Maggie could get a foot out the door, Bill came over.

  
"Is Richie going to be okay?" he asked lowly, taking a cautious glance at the other Losers.

  
"I believe so Bill, you'll have your Trashmouth back in no time," she said calmly. Bill sputtered, not knowing that she knew about the nickname.

  
"You really think I can't hear you when you're all telling him to shut up?" she smiled, not unkindly, "You guys look out for him and his mouth, I appreciate it, but go eat cookies, Bill. It's my turn to take care of him. Be a kid for a while." Bill nodded and went back to settle the minds of the other wary Losers. Eddie, however, was already waiting impatiently by the car. What took three boys to lift, Maggie carried her son in stride. Despite being a house wife she wasn't weak.

  
"Open the car door, Eddie." Eddie complied quickly and watched as she set Richie down in the backseat of the light blue 1951 Chevy Bel Air. The pair quickly hopped into the front seats and drove to the hospital.  
When Richie woke up, it was to the smell of disinfecting wipes. His nose scrunched up in disgust and he rubbed his eyes, squinting at the whiteness of the room. Was this hell? No, he determined by looking around the room and seeing Eddie in a separate bed, sleeping with a cast on his right arm. Richie opened his mouth to wake Eddie up, but all that escaped was a quiet chuff. Richie panicked momentarily before remembering his throat, the clown, It. 'Beep beep Richie' was really taking on a new meaning. Richie got out of bed, slowly, and shook Eddie's shoulder. Eddie woke up quickly and looked over at Richie.

  
"Richie what the he- Richie!" Eddie slipped out of the bed and fell to the floor. Quickly regaining his composure, he hugged Richie.  
"I'm glad you're okay." he murmured. Richie's witty comeback was stuck on his tongue, unable to utter a word.  
"Richie?" Richie looked at Eddie questioningly, "Aren't you gonna say anything?"  
Richie shook his head 'No.'

"Why not? This isn't funny! Beep beep, Richie!" Eddie was quickly getting angry, what the hell was with Richie? If anything the 'Beep beep' made things worse. It made Richie's throat go dry, and his mouth clamped closed. He started crying.  
"Richie! Richie don't cry, can you really not talk?" Eddie asked, a desperate note in his voice. Richie nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes. 'I'm sorry.' he mouthed.

  
"It's okay Richie, it's okay. I'm gonna kill that clown I promise Rich." Richie's chest heaved at the thought of Eddie even trying to go against It.

"N-no." Richie croaked, panic forcing out painful words. He felt warm blood trickling down his neck again. Eddie looked dumbstruck. And then angry.

  
"Don't talk you dumb shit. I won't fight the damned clown, I'm sorry. At least, not alone." Eddie scurried off to get a warm washcloth from the sink and pressed it against Richie's neck.

"Never alone, okay Rich? Not now, not ever. Get in the bed and sleep." Richie shook his head again in panic. Eddie would leave, right? He didn't want that.

"I'll lay there with you, I'm not going anywhere." Richie nodded, calming down. He crawled into the hospital bed and got under the thin blankets. Eddie laid next to him, on top of the blankets, and they slept, Richie’s curly dark brown hair mixing with Eddie's unruly, straight, borderline blonde hair. A moment of peace. The eye of the hurricane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha suffer,,


	2. Run Away (From You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie is scared, and the Losers are trying, they really are.

Hot breath tickled the paling shell of Richie’s ear. Murmurings of unforeseen horrors and ‘give up give up giveupgiveupgiveupgiveupgiveupgiveup

giveupgiveupgiveup

giveupgiveupgiveup

giveupgiveupgiveup

giveupgiveupgiveup

**_g_ **

**_i_ **

**_v_ **

**_e_ **

**_u_ **

**_p_ **

**_‘_ **

He hears it every night, and for the most part he has, indeed, given up. Everyone notices, noticed, the way he trudged to his bed the night he was released from the hospital and has non-verbal conversations with a terror unseen.

Staring contests with walls for breakfasts, nightmares for midnight snacks.

Eddie is unnerved by the new Richie, the name he’s given this much quieter, much more suspicious Richie. Where is the excitable Richie he’s been promised to have since he was five? Richie is slipping through his fingers like thick, black sludge. Slowly but surely.

The other Losers notice it as well.

Bill holds Richie’s hand often, friend-like. Assuring.

Bev gives him all her cigarettes when he asks for one.

                                    Ben crafts another dam back in the Barrens and called it ‘Dam Richie’                              

The others would compliment it by saying “Dam Richie is looking real fine today.”

It’s become something of a tradition, and it never fails to make Richie giggle. And then gurgle as the wounds healing on his neck bubble open.

Stan shows Richie all the birds after the services on Sunday. He’s much easier to inform about the birds now that he’s silent. Richie’s favorites are the mockingbirds. At least Stan hopes that’s what Richie meant when he gently grabbed a mockingbird from the bird bath and accidentally snapped its neck. Richie cried, something Stan had never seen him do in their 8 years of friendship. Stan sometimes thinks that Richie is just jealous of the mockingbirds. They have so many voices. Richie used to, also.

Mike gives warm hugs when no one is around. Richie is grateful, the taller boy’s hugs are warm. They feel like home.

Eddie, however, is home. Bill used to be, Richie hopes he will be again one day, but Eddie is a forceful wind now that Richie is calmer. He makes the ‘Your Mom!’ jokes now, waiting until Richie can make them himself again. He gave Richie his aspirator when he had panic attacks and mollycoddled him until Richie could be mollycoddled no more.

Richie, however, just wanted things to be normal. Fuck the stupid clown, or whatever it was! Fuck Chüd! Fuck _this_. His hands itched nervously across his body, his nerves giving him hives as he watched Eddie forcing himself to take his place.

“So whaddya think we should do today?” Ben asked, idly picking up a rock and turning it over in his palm.

“Your mom, preferably.” Eddie snarked, glancing at Richie for approval. Everyone was still so desperate for things to take from him, his approval especially. Richie smiled to pacify the smaller boy. Everyone else groaned and Stan even went as far as to push Eddie off the tree stump he was sitting on.

Richie scoffed quietly under his breath. Eddie couldn’t make the jokes as well as he could. Eddie wasn’t a comedian in the makings like Richie was. He didn’t need to be replaced, why can’t Eddie just be himself? Some nasty little part of him just wished Eddie would shut up. Was this how his friends felt about him when all he would do is chitter-chatter?

He watched Eddie pull himself back on to the tree stump with little effort. That nasty little part of him surfaced again, raking its disgusting self over Eddie’s body, searching for a cut, a little blood, anything.

Bev’s perfectly painted and filed nails snapped in front of his nose. His fingers twitched from where they were plastered to the ground. The sudden urge to break her nails off from her nail beds needled at the forefront of his mind. He scared himself out of his own wits. Feeling the beginnings of sweat beading at his hairline, he looked up at her questioningly.

“Is there anything in particular that you wanna do, Richie?” she asked, smiling that sickly sweet smiles that are only reserved for babies and stupid puppies with their tongues

(so easy to tear out)

lolling out of their mouths. Richie’s pleasant façade dropped and shook with rage. They were babying him! Richie Tozier did not get fucking babied, screw them! He was already confused enough, god dammit. Why were they being so nice?

He did the only thing that seemed rational at the time, he grabbed his backpack and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for comments and kudos !! they encourage me a lot  
> i probably won't reply to comments which makes me feel mean i just,, worry im gonna say the wrong thing?? or be annoying which haha i would like to try to avoid thank you for understanding !!


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